


it feels better biting down

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluffy, M/M, handjobs, idk how to tag, some parts are so fluffy im sort of disgusted at myself, there is cuddling, werewolf Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you masturbate in my room?” he asks.</p><p>Peter closes the book carefully and stretches out his arms towards his legs. He rolls onto his side and Stiles is momentarily distracted by the little sliver of skin that shows when his shirt rides up. When he looks up at Peter’s face, he’s smirking.</p><p>“And what if I did?”</p><p>“That’s actually really weird and gross, dude,” he says.</p><p>or</p><p>the fic where Peter gives were!Stiles a handjob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it feels better biting down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lightning_Skies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning_Skies/gifts).



> This was written for the Teen Wolf Rare Pair Exchange which is a really cool thing, like super great. Thanks for putting this together. Gift for lightning_skies who wanted a 'Welcoming were!Stiles to the pack' fic. This is for you!
> 
> If I forgot to tag for anything, leave a comment and I'll make sure to fix it! :)
> 
> The title is from Biting Down by Lorde (which is like my jam)
> 
> Disclaimer : I don't own Teen Wolf. If I did that would be great but I dont which is sad.

Stiles walks up to the front of his house with the sound of a heartbeat pounding through his head. He wonders if it’s his dad, but he’s not due back for another two hours, so he quickly dismisses the notion. He unlocks his front door carefully and squeezes it shut behind him.  
  
On the way up to his room, the fourth stair creaks and he freezes, wincing at the sound it makes. He can hear his heartbeat louder than the intruder’s.  
  
He makes it to his room door without further incident and stills. He turns the knob in his hands and grimaces. He should really oil the bolts. There’s a sound of flicking paper and he decides -- _what the hell_ – to push the door open.  
  
He’s standing in a crouched stance – like Derek kept yelling to him about all evening – when he sees who’s in his room.  
  
Peter looks up from where he’s laying on the bed with his eyes raised. His head is leaned softly on the headboard and he has a yellow-paged book in his lap.  
  
Stiles relaxes and lets out a sigh. He inhales the scents in his room and it smells normal with an extra hint of . . . _something_.  
  
Peter watches him with amusement as he tries to figure out what the scent is.  
  
Stiles wrinkles his nose when he finally realizes what it is.  
  
“Did you masturbate in my room?” he asks.  
  
Peter closes the book carefully and stretches out his arms towards his legs. He rolls onto his side and Stiles is momentarily distracted by the little sliver of skin that shows when his shirt rides up. When he looks up at Peter’s face, he’s smirking.  
  
“And what if I did?”  
  
Stiles grimaces and slides his backpack off onto the floor. He masturbates enough – _alone_ – in his room. He doesn’t need Peter to do it for him no matter how much he likes having sex with the guy.  
  
“That’s actually really weird and gross, dude,” he says.  
  
Peter rolls his eyes and beckons him with a come-hither motion. Stiles slides off his shoes and pulls his shirt over his head.  
  
“It’s not my fault you weren’t here on time,” Peter says with a shrug. “I was waiting extremely patiently and if you’d been faster you could have joined me.”  
  
Stiles shoots him a glare and finally steps out of his pant legs. He walks over to the bed and drops not that gracefully onto Peter who winces at the elbow in his stomach before moving over to make room.  
  
“Should’ve been to the pack meeting,” Stiles says.  
  
Peter raises his eyebrows. “You know that neither Scott nor Derek like me very much.”  
  
Stiles pushes himself into Peter’s arms – always the little spoon – and lays there for a moment. When he starts fidgeting, he hears Peter sigh and he turns his body around to look at him. They stare at each other for a bit before the silence gets uncomfortable and Stiles has to talk.  
  
“You are aware that we’re cuddling, right?”  
  
Peter sighs again – does he have to do it that much? – and says, “I’m aware, yes.”  
  
“You do know that cuddling is everything you stand against, right?”  
  
Peter gives him a glare that could cut diamonds.  
  
Stiles opens his mouth to speak, but Peter beats him to the punch by sealing his hand over his mouth. Because Stiles is very much like a child, he licks Peter’s hand.  
  
It tastes like soap.  
  
Peter raises and eyebrow at him. Stiles retaliates by rolling his eyes petulantly. He lets his canines grow so he can bite at the hand over his mouth, but he doesn’t the control to do the partial shift yet, and he can see the amber glow of his eyes reflect in Peter’s blue ones. Peter jerks his hand away, anticipating the bite, and Stiles ends up biting air.  
  
He can’t help the whine that leaves his throat. Peter chuckles and traces Stiles’ lips with his index finger.  
  
“Just because you’re one of us now doesn’t mean you get to bite me anytime you want,” he says.  
  
Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.  
  
“ _Really_ ,” he says. Not a question.  
  
It’s funny how Peter still thinks he has the upper hand in their convoluted excuse of a relationship. He smirks and tilts his head, mostly to get a better view of Peter’s face, but mostly because he knows Peter likes when he exposes his throat. He bites down the grin when he catches blue eyes following the movement.  
  
“Really,” Peter says, voice a bit thin.  
  
Stiles can smell something sweet in the air, like mangos and citrus. He’s not sure what that scent means yet, but it smells really good.  
  
Before Peter can react, Stiles surges his head forward and nips at the base of his throat.  
  
Peter stills and Stiles freezes, not sure if going with that instinct was the right thing to do or not. Peter lets out a low growl and Stiles slowly releases the skin from his mouth.  
  
Maybe biting on instinct wasn't such a good idea.   
  
Peter uses his hand to tilt Stiles' head back so he can look into his eyes.   
  
Stiles blushes and averts his eyes. Stupid teenage horny werewolf instincts.   
  
"You think you're so _clever_ ," Peter says, voice soft. "Don't you?"  
  
Stiles finally looks him in the eye and he lets out a sharp stream of air at their blue luminescence. Peter's teeth are growing and he has Stiles pinned beneath him, hands above his head, in an instant.   
  
Stiles smells that sweet scent again, stronger -- and _tangier_ \-- this time. He feels the shift coming on without permission and he whines.   
  
Peter chuckles and takes one of his hands off of Stiles' clasped ones with ease. Stiles tries to wiggle his arms out of the hold, but pouts when he doesn't so much as move it an inch.   
  
He gives Peter the best puppy dog eyes he can, but he'd never really been good at playing innocent before. Peter, predictably, raises his eyebrow in silent question.   
  
"I just want to touch you," Stiles says, breathless.   
  
Peter grins, all teeth, and rakes one of his claws down Stiles' chest. There's a bit of friction and Stiles flinches at the first contact. Peter leans his head down and swipes Stiles' ear with his tongue.  
  
Stiles shivers at the contact and turns his head away.   
  
"I'm spent," Peter says. He pulls his head back from Stiles' ear and moves so they're looking at each other eye to eye.   
  
"This is your time now."  
  
He continues rubbing small circles lower and lower down Stiles' chest until he's tracing over his stomach with a little more pressure.   
  
"You'll get to touch me later."  
  
"I want to touch you _now_ ," Stiles mumbles.   
  
Peter chuckles. "Patience," he says.   
  
Peter twirls his hand down lower until he's reaching into Stiles' boxers. His hand brushes the tip of his cock and Stiles pushes his hips off the bed to get a better sensation.   
  
Peter laughs and pulls his hand away. "What did I say?"  
  
Stiles groans and tries again to free his hand. Ending up with the same result, he turns his head away and repeats what Peter had said. "Patience."  
  
Peter uses his hand to tilt Stiles' head back to the front and kisses him, hard and rushed. Stiles whines when he pulls away and Peter laughs again.   
  
He puts his hand back into Stiles boxers and starts stroking with a slow -- _slow_ \-- motion. Stiles stays as still as he can, but he can't stop the low noises from coming out of his mouth.   
  
"Peter," he moans. " _Please_."  
  
Peter tilts his head and slows his motions.   
  
"Please, what?" he asks. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific."  
  
Stiles glares at Peter, but the vehemence is lost because of the flush of his face.   
  
"I'd really like to come in this century," he says. " _Please_."  
  
Peter twists his hand around the head of Stiles' cock which makes his eyes flash amber and his teeth grow longer.   
  
"Whatever happened to patience," Peter says softly.   
  
Nevertheless, he starts working Stiles' cock faster. He leans his head down and starts kissing at Stiles' neck. He can feel the vibrations of Stiles' moans on his skin.   
  
He feels precome leaking onto his fingers and he starts picking up the pace, which makes Stiles buck his hips erratically.   
  
Stiles is letting out expletives and begging Peter to _please let me come oh my god_ , but Peter is above giving into the pleas.   
  
But he really does want to put Stiles out of his misery.   
  
He starts stroking faster and faster until Stiles hips seem to be permanently raised off the bed and he lets his teeth grow to sharp points. Just as he feels Stiles tense beneath him, he bites down at the juncture of his neck and collarbone.   
  
Stiles comes with a yell and Peter pumps his cock all the way through it, until Stiles is wincing at the contact.   
  
He pulls himself off Stiles' neck and lets go of his arms.   
  
Stiles is panting next to him and Peter smiles at the mess he's made.   
  
"I'll go get us some washcloths to clean off," he says.   
  
When he comes back from the bathroom he finds Stiles splayed out across the bed on his stomach. His boxers are thrown onto the floor next to the bed.   
  
Peter chuckles when Stiles says," I really hate you."  
  
He moves forward rolls Stiles onto his back, ignoring the protests that are mumbled at him. He starts wiping the come off his stomach and thighs.   
  
"Except you really, _really_ don't," he says with a smirk.  
  
Stiles growls half-heartedly. "Whatever," he says.   
  
Peter chuckles and kisses him, soft and sweet.

Later, when they're cuddling and Stiles is slipping into dreamland, Peter kisses him on his forehead -- which he would get so much flack for if Stiles was awake -- and says, in a soft voice, "Welcome to the pack." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated :)))))


End file.
